


Rome

by sorryimsooochangeable



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 08:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorryimsooochangeable/pseuds/sorryimsooochangeable
Summary: the magic of Christmas in Rome will reserve a gift for Inspector Lestrade ... and not just him!





	Rome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/gifts).



> Mystrade is a source of joy, to me, so I felt the need to write about them.  
> I dedicate this little thing to Mottlemoth who gives me plenty of emotions and happiness with so many wonderful stories.  
> Thanks for the inspiration and forgive my boldness to write something that can't be compared with your amazing works.

Rome the eternal city. Inspector Lestrade's head was so full of stereotypes at that moment that he felt dizzy ... or was it because he was at the top of the Colosseum?

In any case, he was very happy to be there to celebrate Christmas with his cousins, who had moved to Italy for years.

"Greg, if you lean over a little more, you'll taste the dust of the Arena, even if you're not a Gladiator!"

The joking warning of his cousin Armand tore him from his reflections.

"Mm, you're right, it's better not to risk it", and laughing they walked away together from the railing.

Armand recalled his two sons, put an arm around his wife's waist and exclaimed.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving! Do we reach the bistro for breakfast?"

An enthusiastic chorus replied him and they all set out on the steps, leading out of the Colosseum.

As they descended, Greg felt a small squeeze to his heart: his cousin had a wonderful family, he couldn't help but feel a bit of envy that, moreover, made him feel guilty.

'You're really good at hurting yourself' ... - he thought, and his mind involuntarily wanded to the last time that he procured himself a good reason for suffering, illuding himself that the unperturbed Mycroft Holmes could prove more than a slight sympathy for him.

How could he be so stupid? The last events have brought them closer, but this didn't mean that Mycroft could be interested on the scruffy yarder Greg was.

'A powerful, elegant, sophisticated, attractive man, like Mycroft' - maliciously added his brain, to make him suffer even more.

"Are you alright, Greg?"

Once again, Armand's voice brought him back to the present. They had arrived in front of the "Caffè Propaganda" and had not even noticed it. He rubbed his neck, with the embarrassment of having been caught in a 'forbidden' fantasy, as if everyone could read his thoughts. While his cheeks turned slightly red, he replied.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you ... It must be the emotion provoked by the magic of this city, I feel light and muffled"

"In my opinion it is because of the empty stomach" - the cousin replied, giving him a loud slap on the shoulder - "you will see that the croissants of this place will get you back on track!"

The inspector stifled a chuckle, shaking his head ... there was no way to make a serious talk with Armand!

The bistro was very welcoming, refined but simple, and with a counter filled with Parisian-style delicacies. No wonder it was his cousin's favorite place: he was never resigned himself to leaving Paris and only he could find a corner of it in the center of Rome!

Greg was looking around to better appreciate the beauty of the bistro, when he saw something that made his heart skip more than a beat. 

The man who filled his thoughts had just materialized before his eyes: on one of the rust colored sofas, in a corner of the room, perfectly in tune with the environment in his light gray suit, Holmes was looking out of the window at his shoulders, immersed in who knows what thoughts, apparently completely forgetting the open laptop on the table in front of him.

Since he had looked away from the computer monitor, Mycroft thoughts were full of gratitude towards Anthea for insisting to convince him to give himself that "work vacation", even if that was a definition that he would never use. The fact of being in Rome and, moreover, in the Christmas period, added an incalculable value to the benefits of moving away from London.

The strange feeling of being observed with insistence led him to turn his head, towards the mysterious input, and what he saw widen his eyes and made him hold his breath. The look he felt on himself, and that now was going through him like a laser, came from the magnetic, deep eyes of the object of all his dreams: Inspector Lestrade.

On the other side of the room, the broad chest wrapped in a soft wool sweater of an unlikely scarlet red, the man Mycroft for a moment thought about as a hallucination, was staring at him, undecided on what to do.

Holmes, temporarily unable to formulate a coherent thought, could not help but smile and slightly nod in greeting. His smile was reflected, multiplied by a thousand, on the beautiful lips of the DI, a thing that ended up annihilating Mycroft’s mental faculties.

"Armand - excuse me – I…just a moment", Greg said, and, without waiting for cousin's reply, he started walking towards the corner where the one who held the fortunes of the English government (and Greg's heart) was still, even if shaken by a slight internal tremor, listening to the beating of his heart sounding in his head, unable to look away from the handsome silver-haired man who was approaching.

Once in front of him, Greg saw Holmes move as if he wanted to get up, so he moved a hand almost imperceptibly to stop him.   
Then he spoke, without even trying to think about what to say, to avoid censoring himself.

“I don’t know how can it be possible that we met here, but I’m not going to waste something that looks like a miracle. So please tell me that now you will close the laptop, collect your things, put on your coat and you’ll go out of here with me. Because I have to talk to you“

Greg’s black eyes were burning like embers, and Mycroft felt his skin in flame in each place where that gaze rested.   
He only managed to whisper “The umbrella…”, causing in Lestrade a smile full of tenderness.

“Of course, the umbrella could be very useful, the sky is covered …”

The absurdity of the whole situation made him bold.

'After all, maybe I’m in one of my dreams' – he told himself –' in the worst case scenario I’ll wake up  
' 

He went back to his cousin who in the meantime had made the orders and sent his wife and children to occupy a table. “Meanwhile, Uncle Gregory finishes doing…whatever he’s doing,” he added, joking as always.

“Armand, I’m sorry but I can’t stay – see you at home”  
His cousin looked at him in surprise.

“But …”, he wanted to argue something, then saw the expression on Greg’s face and realized that, whatever it was, what “Uncle Gregory” was doing was definitely one of the most important things in his life.   
He smiled affectionately: 

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell the boys that their detective uncle has an important mission to accomplish also in here. They will spend the rest of the day fantasizing about it“

Greg squeezed his shoulder, grateful, and ran out, fearing that Mycroft would change his mind and leave without him.

Once outside he saw him and sighed with relief. In the middle of the pavement, on the other side of the road, slightly leaning to its mythical umbrella.   
He seemed uncertain, fragile and so much younger, but always unbearably handsome to him.  
Greg joined and stood in front of him, bowing his head a little to try to look him in the eyes.

“I – I think we have things to tell, or at least I have, and if you want to listen to me …”

Mycroft raised his head and chained his gray-blue eyes to the inspector’s chocolate brown ones. He straightened his shoulders and let out a long sigh.

“I too – need to tell you … Gregory…” he wondered what had happened to his legendary eloquence, he smiled a little and continued “let’s walk, d’you want?”

Greg felt light as a feather. They started walking next to each other at a slow and relaxed pace.

When he felt long, delicate gloved fingers uncertainly intertwine with his, Gregory distinctly felt the warmth of springtime expand in his chest. And this was really inexplicable, because they were in the middle of winter and it was a cold day with a gray sky.

At that very moment another beautiful miracle occurred: from the sky of Rome the impalpable, unusual, wonderful snow began to descend.


End file.
